


Before We Take Our First Breath

by lizzieonawhim



Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Aftermath of Possession, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, M/M, Multi, Pre-OT3, i think uploading a copy of yourself into your child's brain counts as pretty freaking abusive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 16:23:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13930794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzieonawhim/pseuds/lizzieonawhim
Summary: In which they finally fix Gil. He's a little emotional about it.





	Before We Take Our First Breath

**Author's Note:**

> Because honestly, it takes the Foglios for-freaking-ever to do *anything*. Also I sort of doubt their version will be anything like this? So since I got there first, I did what I wanted *shrug*
> 
> Many thanks to agathaheterodyne on tumblr, who betaed this for me! Also many thanks to the Foglios, who've worked hard for many years to create this webcomic so I can complain about how slow they are and write fic for it XD

The first thing Gil noticed was the quiet.

He drifted in darkness, warm and slow, aware and not aware at the same time. Muffled voices spoke softly on either side of him, one worried and one reassuring. He knew those voices. He knew he was safe with them. That left him free to focus on the quiet inside his own head, and how peaceful, how blissfully empty it was there.

It took him a moment to realize what that meant.

One of the voices broke off. “Gil?” A warm hand settled on the side of his face. Gil realized his cheeks were wet. When had that happened? “Gil, is that -- are you--” A pause. “Can -- can you open your eyes for me?” Things were still a little fuzzy, but Gil knew that voice. It took him a moment, but finally, he managed to blink his eyes open. Two faces resolved in front of him, one blonde and one redheaded. Gil flinched automatically as Agatha’s face came into focus, expecting the surge of a foreign presence in his own mind, the loss of control, the helpless feeling of watching from behind his own eyes -- but nothing came.

Nothing came.

“A-Agatha?” he managed to croak. Then he looked at the other face. “T-Sturmvoraus. You -- you did it. He’s -- he’s gone.” A strangled noise came out of him, half-laugh and half-sob. “He’s gone.”

“Well, of course he is, you cretin,” Tarvek said, trying to sound snappish and failing utterly. “When I do a job, I do it right.”

“Knew I could count on you,” Gil said, and realized immediately he had missed his line by the way Tarvek’s eyes widened with shock. But Gil couldn’t fight with him, not right now, not when he was feeling so many things at one time that he thought he might burst.

“Ahh -- right,” said Tarvek, looking disturbed. “Well, why don’t we just get you down off the slab, then, now that we know you’re not going to do anything… rash.” He got to work on Gil’s restraints.

“He hated you,” Gil whispered, looking at Agatha again. “He hated you so much. I -- I had no idea, not until he was _there,_ and I couldn’t get away from it, I--”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” she said soothingly, running a hand through his hair. Gil felt another sob rise up: he hadn’t realized the extent to which sharing his brain had meant sharing his body. Almost no one had touched him in the past two and a half years, but even when they had, it had felt -- dulled somehow, muted, like he was feeling it through a filter. Agatha’s touch was electric, so much so that it was nearly overwhelming. Gil closed his eyes and tried to savor it. Without meaning to, he leaned into the touch. A small noise slipped out -- not quite a whimper, but close.

“There we go,” said Tarvek as he opened the last of the restraints. Gil stumbled forward, knees wobbly and weak from the procedure; four hands caught him and lowered him gently to the ground. Immediately, a soft, familiar body molded itself against Gil’s side as Agatha wrapped her arms around as much of him as she could reach. There was a pause, and then a warm hand settled on Gil’s other shoulder. 

“There now, Wulfenbach. You're all right.” Tarvek’s voice was unusually gentle, which would have made Gil bristle at any other time. Now, though -- now, he was just glad he didn't have to pretend right now, didn't have to fight, didn't have to do anything but sit here and just _be,_ bracketed by the two people he trusted most in the world.

Later, Gil would wonder at that thought, would puzzle over how, exactly, Tarvek had come to be one of those two. He would ask himself just when Tarvek had become Tarvek instead of Sturmvoraus, if only inside Gil’s head. But for now, Gil just accepted this as truth, reached one arm around Agatha and clutched at Tarvek’s shoulder with the other, closed his eyes, and breathed.


End file.
